The Exception of an Earl

by Deborah Wilson

  Camilla took his arm and felt herself blush. “Thank you.” He’d likely saved them both from embarrassment again.

  Raven was the first to speak as they walked away. “Husher told me there was nothing going on between you two, but clearly, he’s lying. What is this? Are you courting?”

  “No!” Camilla’s face grew painfully hot. “He’s just… helping me with my book.”

  Raven’s gold eyes watched her closely. Then he grunted. “I don’t believe you.”

  His directness caught her off guard.

  But she didn’t back down from the challenge in his eyes. “I can assure you, my lord, that the only thing between William and I are sheets.” Then a second later, she shouted, “Paper sheets. Sheets of paper!”

  Raven threw his head back and laughed.

  Camilla thought her face would melt off from embarrassment.

  Raven laughed the rest of the journey to her grandmother. She thanked him for returning her and then he left her with humor still glowing in his eyes.

  When he was gone, her eyes sought Will… right before she turned away. Anger rose within her at the sight of the other woman clinging to him. Camilla had never thought dancing was an unsuitable activity until that very moment.

  Her grandmother sighed. “I’m glad you’re back. I wish to rest for a moment. Come with me to the women’s room.”

  Camilla was more than glad to follow her out. She wanted to be here to support Will, but she couldn’t stomach him with another woman. What was wrong with her? She was certain a week ago she’d never have felt this way.

  But she’d been thinking about him all week as she wrote. Every page was filled with him, the only difference was he bore a different name in her book. She’d name him Mr. Peyton.

  But her hero was Will and the more she thought about him, the more her pen had moved… and the more she’d begun to feel… something.

  But it wasn’t real. Whatever she felt for Will couldn’t be real. She was thinking about her character, Mr. Peyton.

  She was glad her grandmother wished to take a break. She needed one as well. She needed to clear her thoughts. When next she saw Will, everything would go back to the way it had been a week ago. He’d be nothing more than her handsome muse and she’d be the writer.

  The moment her grandmother was seated by the open window, she fell asleep. Another woman was asleep as well. The scent of wine hung in the air, which was probably the cause of the other woman’s downfall.

  Camilla laughed and then stepped out in the hall to have a footman find two blankets, one for each of the napping women. A maid returned with the blankets, but Camilla was stopped at the door when Will called her name.

  She spun around. Her heart was in her throat.

  He was rushing toward her. His brows were pulled tightly together. “I looked for you and your grandmother. When I noticed that both of you were gone, I believed you’d left.”

  “No. I’m here.” How she managed to speak so clearly, she didn’t know.

  He relaxed, and she felt the rush of all her feelings from earlier surface.

  They were interrupted when an older gentleman approached Will, and Camilla realized the chance of them being able to speak alone that evening was low. And perhaps, it was for the best.

  She didn’t know what was wrong with her. She’d always found him attractive. She’d once asked him to kiss her. Yet this felt different. It felt like more.

  It was possible she’d simply been longing for his company. Since they’d met, this had been their longest spell of distance. A whole week.

  She laughed at how dramatic she was being and how short a time a week actually was. There she stood, gazing at him as though she hadn’t seen him in months or even a year.

  His eyes flickered to her repeatedly during her conversation and Camilla fought to suppress her laugh. What was wrong with them?

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  3 6

  * * *

  Every bone in Will’s body urged him to shout at the man who thought now a good time to speak about some silly vote in Parliament next week. Will didn’t care. He couldn’t care about anything but Camilla when she stood so close.

  Will nodded at the man and tried to think of some way to slip away. All the while, his gaze kept returning to Camilla to make sure she remained where she was.

  She hadn’t moved. She watched the conversation like he’d witnessed her watch others. Her mind seemed to always be full of thoughts. She was capable of entertaining herself without great fuss. She giggled quietly to herself and again he wanted to get away from the gentleman, corner Camilla, and ask her what she thought was so funny.

  He wanted to ask her a ton of things. He wanted to sit around and do nothing but gaze at her and listen to her thoughts. He’d missed her voice. He’d missed the warmth that overtook her eyes.

  He’d thought he’d missed Raven these past few months, but he hadn’t realized how bad his craving for Camilla had grown until she’d appeared in the ballroom.

  He was surprised by the fact that he might have made a scene by approaching her so directly. Nothing had mattered more than getting close to her. He’d have remained at her side had Lady Tuttly not insisted that he dance with her daughter.

  He couldn’t even remember the woman’s name. He only recalled that she hadn’t stopped talking long enough for him to get a word out, which was fortunate considering he wouldn’t have known what to say. He’d kept his eyes on Camilla until she and her grandmother left the ballroom.

  Every second after that had been pure torture. Had they left the party so soon? They’d just arrived.

  When the gentleman finally excused him to speak to someone else, Will sighed and turned to Camilla. She laughed and pressed her hands to her chest. The gesture reminded him of whenever she had her book in her hand and how she’d use it as a shield, a vain attempt to hide her emotions.

  Finally, he could ask her why she was so pleased, but before he did that, he took her hand discreetly and moved them to the next room, which

  was another drawing room. Chairs had been set in a circle and cases for violins and papers were scattered about. The musicians must have used this space for rehearsal.

  And just ahead was a small private balcony.

  Will helped Camilla around the disorder in the drawing room. She kept laughing until they tumbled onto the balcony.

  She sighed and Will took his own breath.

  It was dark, but the lamps from inside shined bright enough for him to see her shadowy figure.

  “What was so funny that you continue to laugh?” he asked.

  She turned to face him. “I don’t know. Tonight just feels… different. Does it feel different to you?”

  “Yes.” And it wasn’t just the night. It was him. He felt different.

  He felt different about her. Stronger, if that were possible. “I believe…”

  “Yes?” She moved closer but stopped before their bodies could touch. She lifted her chin and held his eyes. The laughter remained there. It looked sweet and warm.

  She looked warm.

  He removed his glove and touched her cheek. Her mouth parted on a gasp, but otherwise, she didn’t move away. He ran two of his fingers around the curve of her cheek and down her small chin. He touched her hairline. The hair was soft and fine.

  He bent down and brushed his mouth just where her hair met her forehead and felt the contrast against his lips. She trembled underneath him and then she locked her arms around him.

  He grunted as her hold became forceful.

  “Will,” she whispered. “I missed you.”

  He smiled and cupped the back of her head, holding her against his heart. With her ear pressed against his chest, he was certain she could heart how rapidly it beat.

  He wrapped his other arm around her back. She was braver than him. “Ah, Camilla. I missed you too.” He hadn’t realized how alone he’d felt until Raven had stormed into his room that morning. They’d spent the entire day together. He�
��d told his best friend about Camilla, his little writer. Raven had asked if he loved her and he’d said no.

  But as they held one another now, the words felt like a lie.

  Will didn’t think himself ‘in love’ with Camilla, but he felt strongly about her. She was important to him. Almost like a limb. It had felt wrong not having her underfoot when he’d grown so used to seeing her at least every other day.

  He could feel the loss of her more now that he held her. They’d never touched his way before, yet his body felt otherwise. She fit so beautifully against him.

  It was a windy night. The air had a slight chill, but everywhere Camilla touched him was warm.

  She lifted her head and sought his mouth. And that felt right too.

  She kissed him gently, sighing the entire time. She was so sweet.

  He cradled her head and fought to keep himself calm as he enjoyed this unhurried moment of completeness. The kiss felt like a greeting, an introduction. Her hand touched his face and he realized she’d removed her gloves as well. Her other arm went around his neck and pulled him closer.

  She moaned and the desperate sensation set a raging course through his blood. Her emotions seemed to search out his heart. With the press of her lips, she asked permission for entrance.

  He gave it to her. In his heart, he gave her residency. He gave her complete reign.

  He tried to hold back his tongue, but suddenly it was against her lips and she was sucking it in. Her clever mouth broke his restraints.

  The tide of desire he’d been holding back broke and the kiss changed. Locking his fingers in her hair, he tilted her head in the position he wanted and sought to back control.

  With a soul-punching moan, she gave it and he feasted. He lapped at her tongue and every inch of her mouth, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly enough.

  But the sound of the door in the music room opening said it had to be.

  He broke from her and then pushed them back into the dark corner of the balcony.

  They heard voices. A woman whispered something and then a man laughed.

  A couple? Had a couple slipped away as he and Camilla had?

  He wrapped his arms around her, and she rested her head against his chest.

  They listened. There was a choking sound and something that sounded like a sob.

  “Please, sir… Don’t do this… ” The woman’s tearful whisper curled around Will’s belly.

  The man laughed. “Hush, girl. I’ll be quick about it. You might even enjoy it.”

  Will recognized the voice. It was the man who’d been speaking to him earlier. Northgate or Northdon or something. Will couldn’t remember.

  The woman’s weeping grew louder but remained soft enough that she wouldn’t be heard outside the room. Only someone hidden on the balcony could hear her.

  “Will,” Camilla whispered desperately.

  “Stay here.” Will felt himself grow cold as he pulled away from Camilla.

  He didn’t know if she tried to stop him, but he was over the threshold a second later and grabbing the other lord by the back of his jacket in the next. He yanked the lord away, throwing him off balance and tossing him off the girl he’d had pinned to the wall.

  The scullery maid quickly fixed her skirts and then ran into the corner of the room before ducking her head and starting to weep.

  North-what-have-you stumbled over cases and landed hard on his back. The wind was knocked out of him.

  Will felt a savage desire to strangle the man. “I believe I heard her beg you to stop.”

  North’s face was red and he was slow about picking himself off the floor. “The girl wanted it.”

  The cold in Will’s blood battled the hateful heat in his gut. “I should call you out.”

  “Over a servant?” North laughed, sure Will was joking. “My lord, she’s no one of significance. Come on. I was just going to have a little fun with her. If she really had no desire for me, I’d never have approached her.”

  “Look at her!” Will shouted, pointing to the maid. “Do those look like tears of desire to you?”

  North looked at the wailing maid and then turned to Will. His gaze was narrowed. “Call me out if you wish, but no one would believe a word you say over me. This was not rape.”

  “Only because I stopped you.” Will shook his head. Disgust had him ready to vomit… or murder.

  North crossed his arms. Still studying Will, he started to smile again. “You want the chit for yourself, don’t you? How about this? I’ll wait my turn, let you have a go, and then we’ll trade.” He looked around Will at the maid. The lust in his eyes made Will’s skin crawl.

  “Leave or I’ll kill you.”

  There was a gasp from outside. Camilla. But to anyone else, it could have sounded like the wind.

  North took one step back but then stopped and straightened. He was clearly not a gentleman used to cowering before anyone. Most gentlemen weren’t. Their titles and bloodlines made them invincible and in the face of cruelty, Will was expected to look the other way.

  North made that clear with his next words. “Have you lost your sense? I’m an earl. You’re an earl. Surely, you’d not ruin such an acquaintance over some… maid. Surely, not?”

  There were a hundred things Will wanted to do at that moment. Most of those things were some form of dismemberment of the man who stood before him. But two things stopped him from acting. The maid and Camilla, who was still on the balcony.

  As Will had warned Camilla, he wasn’t a very patient man. Usually, he let his mouth run before his thoughts could catch up, but that was when it was only his life on the line and not that of others. What benefit would it be to the maid to expose this incident? She’d be let go from her position and in the end, North would walk away without so much as a scratch on his reputation.

  And Camilla. She’d eventually come out. While the maid’s reputation would only matter to those of her class, Camilla’s would matter to London. She was a famed writer. Being caught on a balcony with a gentleman would close ballroom doors across the city.

  No more Almack’s. No more friends.

  He didn’t even trust her own brother to stand at her side… unless Will married her and he wasn’t sure Camilla wanted to marry him. He returned his thoughts to North before they could go any deeper on the subjects of Camilla and forced marriage.

  He smiled. “Forgive me, my lord. You’re right. The maid is no one and not worth dissolving our growing acquaintanceship.”

  The maid didn’t make a sound, not even when North grinned.

  The old lord laughed. “I knew you’d come to your senses. Perhaps, we can share—”

  “But the sound of tears irritate me,” Will said before the leech could suggest anything as insidious as joining their efforts to terrorize the maid further. “I’ll take care of this matter quietly. You should return to the party.”

  North thought it over and then nodded. “You’re right. My daughter could be looking for me. Can’t let anything happen to her, can I?” He chuckled.

  Will smiled through the hypocrisy. Swallowing down his growing violence, he said, “Yes, you should go see to her.”

  “I’ll introduce you to her later,” North promised on his way to the door. “She’s beautiful. I can promise you that.”

  Will nodded and remained rooted in place as North gave one final look of longing at the maid and then closed the door. Then Will

  turned to the maid, who gave a shout.

  “Please, my lord.” The girl’s hands went up. “Please, I beg you…”

  “It’s all right.” Camilla flowed out of the balcony and went straight to the maid. “You’re safe now. Lord Sencio only said those things to get Lord Northborough to leave.”

  Northborough. That was the name.

  Camilla gave the girl her handkerchief and then gently set her in one of the chairs.

  The maid struggled to calm herself. She was trembling and her eyes kept flickering up to Will. She was still tr
ying to decide if she could trust him.

  Camilla sat next to the maid and turned to Will. “Why did you make yourself agreeable to that man?”

  “I didn’t think either of you would enjoy the sight of a dead body.”

  The maid stiffened.

  Camilla’s mouth fell open.

  Will crossed his arms. “Also, there was her position to consider and your reputation. I didn’t want either ruined. Therefore, I’ll have to deal with him later.”

  Camilla looked troubled. “How?”

  “I’ll see what Van Dero has on him. If he’s willing to do this at such a grand party, he’s likely capable of other considerable offenses.”

  The maid stopped shaking and for the first time, all her worry left her bones. She must have heard about Van Dero’s blackmail ledgers.

  Camilla stared at him. There was still a question in her eyes. She likely wondered what he’d do once he learned of Northborough’s other crimes. But she didn’t ask it. Instead, she nodded.

  “I’ll get some tea,” Will said.

  “No.” The maid shook her head and looked between Camilla and Will. “You have been so kind. I thank you. But… I must return to work.” She stood and neither of them stopped her.

  She seemed stronger as she curtsied, but Will stopped her on her way to the door. He wrapped his hand around her arm. She stiffened and her eyes filled with fear and tears, but she stayed quiet.

  Will made certain his voice was menacing when he spoke. “The next time a man grabs you and intends to force himself upon you, you scream. You scream and you fight. You make sure everyone in the vicinity of your voice knows you disagree with this act. You make sure the world knows you think him vile.” Then more gently, he said, “Witnesses, male witnesses, will be your only defense. The judges and doctors will not believe you. No one will. The world is unfair. There is little justice, especially for women, but it will be up to you to shake away the world’s veil of peace. Scream, otherwise, you alone will bear the burden of this torture as it screams through your mind in a voice that only you will ever hear.”

  The maid said nothing.

  Will said, “Nod your head so I know you understood and will do as I instructed.”